


endless happy beginnings

by playedwright



Series: spierfeld week 2018 [1]
Category: Love Simon (2018), Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Coming Out, Emails, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Spierfeld Week, basically the same story Except w/o martin being martin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-20 22:49:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14271231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/playedwright/pseuds/playedwright
Summary: Simon finds the first note in a library book.There’s oceans between people; maybe the point is to find a shore worth swimming to.It sends a thrill through his spine—it’s written in this flawless handwriting, not even a hint of slant, on blue-green construction paper, tucked carefully between pages.Simon can't help but think it's a sign.*In which they meet through notes pressed into library pages, and it changes everything.





	endless happy beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> **written for spierfeld week, with the day one prompt: alternative first meeting.**
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> this story is very similar to what happens in the book and in the movie, so i left out a lot of the exchanges between blue and jacques; feel free to fill in the blanks with your favorite emails, or emails of your choice—the point of this is to show that even if they met in a different way, they're still the same boys we know and love.  
> (title from a quote found in _more happy than not_ by adam silvera; which, coincidentally, is the book that starts it all in this story)
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> enjoy!

Simon finds the first note in a library book.

 

_ There’s oceans between people; maybe the point is to find a shore worth swimming to. _

 

It sends a thrill through his spine—it’s written in this flawless handwriting, not even a hint of slant, on blue-green construction paper, tucked carefully between pages.

 

Simon had been too nervous to check the book out; he’d grabbed it off the shelf and practically sprinted to a tucked-away corner of the library where he could start reading. Maybe he was being over-cautious, but he couldn’t help it. Borrowing a book about a gay love story from a library in small-town Georgia? He felt better erring on the side of caution.

 

But this—he hadn’t expected.

 

Simon isn’t a poet. He barely knows how to make a metaphor, try as he might. But something in his gut is begging him to respond to this note. Something tells him he has to.

 

He tears off the part where the words are written, and on the blank piece sketches out a very rough drawing of ocean waves inside a heart, as anatomically correct as he could make it. It’s a fairly decent sketch, so he smiles in satisfaction and tucks the note back into the same place he’d found the written words.

 

Then he starts reading.

 

He reads until he reached the note, then closes the book and holds it to his chest while he tries not to cry. Whoever had this book before—maybe they’d gotten overwhelmed, like him, at how sad the story was turning out to be. Maybe the note had served as a bookmark. Or maybe Simon was making something out of nothing.

 

He left the book there, with his temporary bookmark, and as soon as he got home started wondering just how soon he could return.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It takes him a week to get back to the library, and by now he’s kind of freaking out. He’s wondering if this mystery person returned, if they saw his note, if the book will even still be there. Maybe someone else, someone new checked it out, and Simon will never know if his note-leaver had left a reply.

 

Maybe Simon needs to stop with the maybes. He’s making himself more nervous that he needs to be.

 

The book is still on the shelf.

 

And there’s a new note in hidden within the pages.

 

Simon’s heart is beating a staccato.

 

_ I think people are like houses with vast rooms and tiny windows; but maybe that’s a good thing. We never stop surprising one another. _

 

Simon probably looks strange, standing in the middle of a library gripping a book and grinning at a piece of paper. But he doesn’t even have it within him to care.

 

Scrawled underneath that, in the same perfect handwriting, reads:

 

_ Maybe I’m presumptuous, but I’m guessing if you’re reading this that you have a secret similar to mine? _

 

Oh. Oh. They want to  _ talk  _ to him. Simon is kind of having a hard time breathing. He glances around the room quickly to see if anyone is giving him weird looks, then hurries off again to the same hidden corner where he sat the first time.

 

There’s not as much space on this paper, with the two notes. Simon pockets it in its entirety then reaches into his backpack to tear something out of a notebook. First, the sketch. He draws a person, and their head is a house. Not the most original idea, and he’s pretty sure it actually looks horrible, but he doesn’t care. What’s important is what he writes next.

 

_ I’m kind of flipping out right now. I guess I didn’t expect you to reply! This is awesome. So I’m guessing you go to school here? I’m a junior. And a guy, if you were wondering. And yeah—my life is pretty normal except for that huge ass secret. _

 

He stops before he fills an entire page with the words he wants to say.

 

He’s only got a few minutes before he has to be in home room, which is fine. If he only reads a chapter, he’ll have a reason to return.

 

Well—another reason.

  
  


He’s kind of obsessed with this person he’s talking to. Simon jumps the entire day, fidgets whenever someone mentions the library, and gets distracted mid-conversation. Leah gets so frustrated with him that she actually stands up and leaves him alone at the lunch table. He kind of deserved it; it’s like the third time he asked her what she was talking about.

 

Simon’s just—he wants to go back to the library  _ right now _ . Part of him knows that’s undeniably stupid. The person probably hasn’t even had a chance to respond. But he can’t stop thinking about it. In an obsessive, creepy way. There’s someone out there who is  _ just like him _ .

 

“Where is your head today, Si?” Nick asks him, shaking his head when Simon trails off in the middle of his sentence. Simon smiles, mostly to himself.

 

“I don’t even know.”

 

By the end of the day, he’s literally bouncing in his seat. He can’t keep still, and he doesn’t really want to. When the bell rings, he all but sprints to the library.

 

“Will you tell Ms. Albright I’ll be just a few minutes late?” he begs Abby. She looks at him, startled, but nods, and then he’s pushing his way through the crowd to get to the library. Practically, there won’t be a response yet. He didn’t give them enough time. But practicality is thrown out the window since he feels like a bundle of nerves slowly unraveling.

 

He makes sure no one else can see him when he grabs the book. Same shelf, but in a different spot. His heart skips a beat.

 

_ Wow. Wow. You wrote back! I’m weirdly happy about that. I’m glad you liked my notes. At least, I’m assuming you liked them since they’re no longer in the book. It’s okay—I liked your drawings, and I’m keeping them. I am a guy, and I’m also a junior. This is kind of crazy. You’re the only other gay guy I’ve met. I wonder if we know each other. _

_ This is tedious. If you’re comfortable, you can email me. If not, we can continue with the notes. I want to keep talking to you. _

 

_ -Blue _

 

Simon is kind of blushing. He runs his fingers over the email address, where the pen indented the paper.  _ Bluegreen118.  _ Well. That at least explained the colored paper.

 

He’s twenty minutes late for rehearsal.

 

Abby pulls him aside in between scenes. “Are you okay?” she asks. “You’ve been super weird today. Why were you so late?”

 

Simon knows he could tell her. He knows he could probably tell any of his friends and it would be okay. But it still kind of scares him. So he just shrugs her hand off of his shoulder, says, “I’ll tell you later. I’m good though. I promise.”

 

Really  _ fucking  _ amazing, if he’s being honest.

 

At home, it takes him nearly an hour to compose an email before he finally feels good about sending it. He left another note in the book, too; a pretty ugly attempt at the scene from the book that they’d been stuck on while corresponding. Simon kind of likes the notes, even if they are tedious. But the email will be much quicker. Even if they have secret identities.

 

Simon hasn’t felt this excited about anything for longer than he cares to admit.

 

He kind of hopes it never ends.

  
  
  


_ Dear Blue, _

 

_ I can’t believe we’ve advanced to the digital. You must be pretty serious about me! _

_ All joking aside, this is pretty awesome. Even though I thought our notes were cool too. It was like we were secret agents. Which is why I left another drawing there. I really should finish that book. _

_ I bet we do know each other, which is weird. We could have totally be enemies and have no clue. Except I don’t really think I have enemies. Maybe I do! _

_ Is it weird if I ask you what you do after school and stuff? _

 

_ -Jacques _

 

_ P.S. I guess this means we could still be secret agents. Fake identities and all. :) _

 

 

* * *

 

 

So, it becomes a thing.

 

Simon has a reply from Blue in the morning, and he practically vibrates out of his shoes because he’s so excited. He isn’t even disappointed that this is staying anonymous—-seriously. He’s not sure he wants this guy to know who he is yet.

 

But. It’s thrilling, even just knowing there’s another gay kid  _ in his grade  _ who is going through all the stuff he’s going through. And Blue is smart, and funny. And awkward. Which basically sums up to perfection in Simon’s book.

 

His friends seem to pick up on his good mood.

 

“What’s wrong with him, he hadn’t stopped smiling all day,” Nick asks. He reaches across the table to check Simon for a fever, grinning when the table laughs at Simon swatting him away.

 

“At least he’s actually, like, present today,” Leah says. Simon looks at her with puppy-dog eyes. “Yeah, whatever, I forgive you.”

 

He doesn’t really know how to explain it to them. Simon does feel particularly happy, but life goes on. He forgets to check his email until late after rehearsal, after dinner, when he’s laying on bed contemplating whether or not he should start this essay.

 

Then he remembers, and practically falls off his bed in his haste to check his email.

 

There’s a new email from Blue.

 

And attached in it is a picture of the book they’ve been co-reading and using to communicate until now.

 

Under the photo, he’s written:

 

_ You’ll have to check out another book. I get to finish this one first ;) _

  
  


And seriously—this might be the greatest thing to happen to Simon, ever.

 

There’s another book by the same author still at the library, so Simon checks it out—he isn’t even nervous now, which is crazy to think about—and reads it all in one night. He draws a picture of a faceless boy laying on the ground with five empty Nutella jars next to him. The first story Blue told him. Simon feels kind of sentimental, so he takes a picture.

 

And the next day, he leaves the book in the library.

 

It all feels kind of surreal.

 

His life is pretty much the same outside of the emails, and the notes he leaves. Rehearsal is going by slowly, but at least Simon is off book. Not that he was ever on. He doesn’t have lines. He finds it a perk.

 

His friends are the same. Nick pines after Abby, Abby acts oblivious, and Leah makes snarky remarks more often than not. Lunch has gotten more exciting; Garrett and Bram, Nick’s friends from the soccer team, start to join them. With Garrett comes lots of blown out of proportion stories and even more laughter, which Simon can’t complain about. And it’s kind of cool to see a side of Bram Greenfeld where he smiles and rolls his eyes at Garrett’s dumb jokes. Until now, Simon’s always kind of assumed Bram was this super silent, straightforward and smart type. But he has a cute smile.

 

He has a cute everything, to be honest. If Simon was in the habit of falling for straight guys, Bram would be right up his alley. Especially when he catches Simon staring a bit too long, but just blushes in return and gives Simon like the softest cutest smile ever.

 

But it’s weird, because Simon can’t stop thinking about Blue.

 

He wonders if, in an alternate universe, talking to Blue would feel less consuming. But it takes him just under two weeks to get completely addicted to emailing him. Like, sending multiple emails a day because he just wants to know Blue’s thoughts on  _ everything _ . Simon thinks if he were more sane, he’d be a little more freaked out by how easy it was to get attached to this guy. What Simon honestly struggles with is understanding that this guy is a real true breathing person, probably someone he knows. He has a face, and a voice, and a laugh and a smile and he’s probably the cutest boy ever and Simon is only a little biased. Sometimes he thinks that he made Blue up; it’s too surreal.

 

Other times, he feels like he needs to know who Blue is more than he needs to breathe.

 

The next note he finds from Blue, in one of the library books, reads:  _ Freedom lies in being bold. _

 

Robert Frost.

 

It’s so corny and Simon literally cannot stop smiling about it. He doesn’t know what it means, exactly, what Blue is intending, but he takes it as a sign.

 

He signs off his next email with:

 

_ I’m just gonna throw this out there—if you wanted to know who I was, I’d be more than willing to reveal my secret identity. Just sayin. _

 

_ Yours, Jacques _

 

 

* * *

 

 

He doesn’t get a response for a few days.

 

Simon tries not to freak out. He knows it’s unfair of him to expect Blue to be able to email him back within the day ever single time. He’s probably busy. It’s a busy time of year. Plus, Simon technically has a lot he should be busy with, too. He really shouldn’t be so hung up on the fact that Blue is taking twice as long to email him.

 

He has a timed essay about Walden, and he’s so scatterbrained he’s pretty sure he bombs it. He seriously can’t get out of his own head. And truth be told, he’s pretty sure he used a metaphor involving  _ blue  _ like four different times.

 

God, he’s a mess.

 

He’s lucky it’s the weekend.

 

They have a Saturday rehearsal, and people who aren’t running lines are working on the set. Abby keeps shooting him weird looks, and Martin Addison looks ready to bolt every time Simon so much as looks at him.

 

It just gets on Simon’s nerves.

 

“ _ What _ ?” he snaps at Abby, after the twentieth time she looks at him like he’s grown a second head. She pales.

 

“Nothing,” she says too quickly. “Si—you know you can talk to me about. Like, anything. Right?”

 

His heart swoops into his stomach. “I know?” he says. He wonders if she can tell that his heart rate just increased by like, a million. She gives him a soft smile, and even reaches across the door they’re painting to squeeze his hand.

 

“Good,” she says.

 

Simon feels badly for being short with her, but he can’t shake this feeling like she knows something and is waiting for him to figure out she knows without having to say anything. Combined with the fact that he hasn’t heard from Blue yet, this entire thing is kind of shitty.

 

He doesn’t get an email Saturday night.

 

On Sunday, he wakes up feeling like every nerve in his body is fried. There’s no email, but he has to do  _ something _ , so he calls Leah and offers Waffle House if she’ll hang out with him.

 

“Si, it’s like, 8am.”

 

“Waffles are breakfast food!”

 

She can’t deny that. “Fine. Come get me, and you’re paying.”

 

“Obviously.”

 

It’s been a while since he’s been able to just sit down with Leah, so the second she gets in his car he already feels a lot better. He grins goofily at her. She just blinks back.

 

“You’re so weird, Spier.”

 

“I love you.”

 

“Oh my god, please drive the car.”

 

Brunch surprisingly helps. Leah has a lot of stories to tell him, stuff she hasn’t had the chance to since he’s been busy with theatre and she’s been busy doing something else. The tension in his gut dissipates; even though his heart leaps into his throat every time he so much as feels his phone vibrate.

 

She suggests they go see a movie, and Sion takes it as a chance to spend two hours focusing on someone else’s problems instead of waiting for his email to chime.

 

The movie is something filled with explosions and violence; he and Leah spent at least half of it acting out the fight scenes themselves and adding their own sound effects. They’re alone in the theater, a rarity in their town, which Simon points out. Leah says, “Si, this movie is like, hella old. It’s not that much of a surprise.”

 

It’s a nice break from reality.

 

He doesn’t even remember to turn his phone back on until he’s home, laying across his bed. The thought strikes him suddenly, and in an instant he feels all coiled again as he reaches for his laptop.

 

One new message.

 

_ Dear Jacques, _

 

_ I want to apologize for taking so long to reply; especially after seeing what your email said. I swear it wasn’t intentional. Some stuff has being happening with my family. My stepmom is pregnant, and my dad is weirdly excited about it—to the point it makes me wonder when he stopped being that excited about me. _

_ Sorry; I don’t want to be a downer. I wish I could have emailed you about all of this as it was happening. At the time, I thought I wanted to be alone, but now I’m realizing I could have used your sense of humor and cute sentence fragments to cheer me up. _

_ Did I mention I think you’re cute? I’ve been thinking it a lot lately. _

_ I’ve been thinking about what you asked me in your last email. Believe me when I say it’s something I’ve been thinking, too. Part of me thinks I’m ready. But a larger part of me is terrified to find out what will happen next. I’m sorry. Can I ask for a week to think it through? _

 

_ Yours always, Blue _

  
  


Yours, always.

 

Simon can hardly breathe. He doesn’t even care that he’s spent the past few days more on edge than he’s ever felt, because those two words are pretty much the greatest words Simon has ever seen combined together, ever. Yours always.

 

_ Yours always! _

 

God, Simon thinks he might be flying. His heart tugs when he rereads the line about Blue’s father losing excitement about his life, and Simon is struck by the realization that he’d do absolutely anything he could to make sure Blue didn’t ever feel like that again. It knocks the wind out of him, to the point he has to take a step back and put his head between his knees to keep from hyperventilating.

 

It’s all kind of overwhelming. Breathtaking and life- altering and  _ amazing _ —Simon wouldn’t trade this for anything—but also incredibly terrifying as he’s starting to realize just how much Blue means to him.

 

They’ve been emailing for nearly two months, and each time Simon gets that notification he falls just a little bit harder.

 

When he feels like he can breathe again, he picks up his laptop.

  
  


_ Blue, _

 

_ I’m sorry about your rough weekend. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there to email you through it. Or potentially cuddle you through it. Just gonna throw that out there. Yep. _

_ But seriously—I’m sorry about your dad. That’s a horrible situation to be in. I can only say I hope that I never ever make you feel that way. You deserve all the attention. You deserve a lot of things, Blue. Pretty much anything you want, you deserve. _

_ As for losing the anonymity—take as much time as you need. I’m serious. I’ll be ready whenever you are. _

 

_ Love, Jacques _

  
  


He has another email Monday morning, and it’s just two lines.

 

_ What if I want you? _

_ Love, Blue _

 

God. Simon seriously doesn’t know how much longer he can take this. He can’t imagine any scenario where he meets Blue and doesn’t want to kiss his face off; and it’s just getting  _ worse _ . He can’t replay right now; he can barely keep his thoughts in order.

 

So he focuses on driving Nora to school, focuses on getting his notebooks out of his locker, focuses on Mr. Wise’s droning voice as he explains their curriculum for the week. Mr. Wise is passing out the essays from Friday; Simon doesn’t really want to see the score on his, he already knows he did poorly.

 

Which is why he’s so shocked when Mr. Wise hands him back a paper with a perfect score circled on top.

 

Simon can hardly believe it.

 

Then he sees the name, and realizes it isn’t his test at all.

 

But then he really looks at the paper, and realizes he recognizes this perfect, slant-free handwriting. And it’s like a bucket of ice water is dumped on him; this is  _ Blue’s handwriting _ .

 

Simon sucks in a sharp breath.

 

He freaking out. He’s seriously freaking the hell out, and he can’t even  _ properly freak out  _ because he’s in a classroom with like twenty other people and  _ Blue  _ and seriously Simon cannot handle this. He tries to even out his breathing as he shifts in his seat so he can tap Bram Greenfeld on the shoulder.

 

Cute Bram Greenfeld, of the soft eyes and soccer calves. Simon can’t breathe.

 

He tries not to grin dopily at Bram- _ Blue!  _ Blue said he needed time, and Simon figuring it out early and turning into a fucking crazy person is not gonna make Bram more eager to become less private.

 

“Mr. Wise must have us confused,” Simon hears himself say. “I’m sure it’s because we look so similar.”

 

Bram takes the essay back, catches sight of the score, and blushes. Simon think he tries to give him smile, but Bram turns around so quickly that Simon can barely catch it. Simon thinks back to Blue saying once he gets flustered around cute boys—

 

Then his heart skips a beat, or twelve.

 

_ He’s  _ one of the boys who makes Bram Greenfeld flustered.

 

Simon might seriously combust, right here, in the middle of class while Mr. Wise is talking about the next shitty novel they have to read. His chances of staying focused this class are shot to complete hell. He can barely sit still in his chair, knowing that Bram, his  _ Blue _ , is only a few freaking seats away from him. Simon does want to kiss his face off. Somehow even more now knowing that is goddamn Bram Greenfeld, Simon’s harbored crush since the second Bram sat down at Simon’s lunch table.When the bell rings, he literally sprints out the door. He’s contemplating skipping the rest of the day, since he knows his attention is now one hundred and twenty percent focused on  _ Blue Blue Blue Bram Bram Bram. _

 

He’s halfway to his car when he’s interrupted by Martin Addison.

 

“Uh?” Simon says.

 

Martin looks petrified.

 

“I’m sorry,” the guy babbles. Simon blinks at him in confusion. “Abby told me that what I did was insanely shitty and crossing a line and I just wanted to apologize to you and let you know I won’t tell anyone else—”

 

Simon holds up his hands, and Martin shuts his mouth. “Marty, I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

 

Martin turns bright red. “She didn’t tell you?”

 

“Seriously dude? What are you saying?”

 

“You should talk to Abby,” Martin squeaks. “I’m sorry. Again. I—I’m gonna go.”

 

Something settles unpleasantly in Simon’s stomach. As soon as Martin is out of sight, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and is dialing Abby’s number. She answers on the third ring. “Abby, what the hell, Martin just, like, ambushed me in the parking lot and started spouting nonsense and zero of it made sense but he told me to talk to you—?”

 

“Si,” Abby interrupts. “Where are you?”

 

Simon blinks. “I’m at my car.”

 

“Okay. I’ll be down there in just a second. We’re gonna go for a drive, okay?”

 

So Simon waits. When Abby makes her way to him, he gets in his car and waits patiently until she’s in the passenger's seat to start driving.

 

“Abby, what the hell.”

 

He’s freaking out, a bit.

 

Abby looks sad.

 

She waits until they’re a considerable distance away from the school; to a point where Simon is just driving aimlessly along the road. When she’s certain it’s okay, she takes a deep breath. “I love you, you know that, right?” she asks.

 

“Seriously Abby, I’m kind of freaking out.”

 

“Martin told me you’re gay.”

 

All of the air leaves Simon’s lungs like he’s been punched.

 

“...Oh.”

 

She continues, “He was saying something about how he had proof, and about how I needed to know because of my feelings for you—I guess he thought we were spending so much time together because we’re dating. But the second he told me, I told him to mind his own business, I swear.”

 

Simon’s knuckles are white as he grips the steering wheel. “It’s okay,” he tries to tell her. It sounds strangled even to his own ears.

 

He hesitates for a minute. “It’s true.”

 

“ _ Oh _ .”

 

“Are you surprised?”

 

“No.”

 

Simon nearly slams on the brakes. He forces himself to stay at least kind of focused on the road; he’s shaking so badly that he really doesn’t need any extra bad behavior. “So you knew?”

 

“No!” Abby says quickly. “You’re shaking, Si.”

 

“You’re the first person I’ve said that out loud to.”

 

She smiles sadly. “I’m sorry it had to happen like this,” she tells him. She puts her hand on his elbow. “I’m really proud of you though. And I love you.”

 

Simon takes a deep breath. “I love you, too.”

 

Simon only makes it a few more blocks down the road before he cracks. “How the fuck did Martin Addison know?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

It turns out Martin Addison had noticed Simon sneaking off to the library more than usual, and had trailed in after him on day. He saw Simon take a book off the shelf and stick a note in it, and quickly dart off as the bell rang.

 

Simon hasn’t left a note for Blue in a book for a long time. The last one he left one he had left was the one Martin found; a sketch of a guy coming out to a room of faceless people. Apparently, even if Martin hadn’t been following Simon, the note had been torn out of Simon’s notebook and had his last name on the corner of the back of it. In retrospect, Simon is a monumental idiot.

 

And Martin is a gigantic jackass.

 

“You don’t get to decide when I come out,” Simon hisses at him, as Martin explains his side of the story. Martin at least has the audacity to look guilty. “I don’t care if you were doing this because you thought it was going to get Abby Suso to date you—that’s even more despicable, fucking  _ honestly _ —you don’t get to decide who knows and when and how. That gets to be  _ my  _ thing. I swear to god, Martin, this is lower than I ever expected you to go. Stay the  _ fuck  _ away from me.”

 

Martin looks like he might start to cry. “Simon, I’m so sorry, I just wanted Abby to like me—”

 

“Being a monumental fucking jerk is not the way to do that, Marty.”

 

Simon wonders how the hell his week went from amazing to  _ this _ .

 

 

* * *

 

 

He’s barely even had time to think about Bram.

 

There’s a part of him that’s so fucking paranoid now, because of Martin. He feels kind of sick when he checks his email. Like he can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching him and waiting for his guard to drop so that they can expose his secret, too.

 

He gets so freaked out that he kind of just...blurts it out to Leah and Nick when they’re playing video games one day.

 

Nick actually pauses the game and turns to gape at him.

 

“Si,” Leah says. She looks shocked, but not in a bad way. Her face eventually morphs into something more sympathetic. “That’s great. Um. Thank you for telling us.”

 

“Cool,” Nick adds.

 

Leah hits him with a pillow.

 

“Um,  _ ouch _ ?”

 

“He just came out to us and all you can say is  _ cool _ ?” Leah snaps. “What is wrong with you? Freaking hell, Nick.”

 

Simon smiles. “It’s okay. Thanks, guys. Play your video game now, jeez, we can move on from this.”

 

And he tries to let it go.

 

He’s pretty sure Blue—Bram—has noticed him pulling back.

 

Blue’s email on Friday is a lot shorter than the rest of the one’s he’d sent this week. And it had been sent in the early hours of the morning. By now, Simon’s recognized that Blue wakes up way earlier than him (it kind of makes sense that it’s Bram Greenfeld now, who sometimes has conditioning for soccer in the early mornings) but this one by far has the earliest time stamp.

 

_ Dear Jacques _ ,

_ I’ve been thinking a lot about coming out, and even more about meeting you face to face. This week has been kind of strange; something’s been going on with my group of friends. Can you believe I want to double up on this awkward week and add to it by coming out? Tell me you don’t think I’m crazy. _

_ I guess what I’m trying to say is I think I’m finally ready. I want to know who you are, Jacques. And in the interest of being completely honest, I just might kiss you when I find out. _

_ Of course, only if you still want to meet me. I hope you’re okay. _

 

_ Love, Blue _

  
  


It’s a lot to process. This week has been—so much. But knowing that Bram has finally decided to meet Simon face to face, knowing that after so much time of pining and writing and waiting and  _ wanting _ , it could all turn into something even more amazing. The nightmare he’s faced this week doesn’t even seem as bad. He’s been thinking it could have been a lot worse, too. And Bram wants to  _ meet him _ . Finally. God. Simon’s heart can barely handle it.

 

He replies during lunch.

 

_ Sorry about your weird week. I hope it all resolved. And for what it’s worth, no Blue, I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’re crazy brave. _

_ And ridiculously cute, if we’re just throwing compliments out there. _

_ Of course I still want to meet. Don’t be silly. _

 

_ Love, Jacques _

 

What even is his life.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rehearsal is awkward now, because Martin always looks like he’s about to cry or run out of the auditorium, and Ms. Albright always looks like she’s two seconds away from strangling him. Simon can relate. He doesn’t really know what to do about Martin. On one hand, he took a huge secret and ran his mouth because he thought a girl was hot—but even Simon knows it could have been much worse. Still. He’s sticking to hardcore ignoring him right now.

 

Simon gets a notification from his email while at rehearsal, and his heart stops beating for a second. He wonders if he can get away with checking his phone. Maybe Bram wants to meet him tonight; maybe he changed his mind altogether. Simon really needs to stop playing the maybe game. It’s making him more anxious than he’s already been this week.

 

Ms. Albright ends up dismissing them early, so frustrated at how distracted they all were, and Simon immediately pulls out his phone.

 

_ The library, Monday, before school starts. That’s where I would like to meet you. Where it all began. _

 

_ Yours (if you’ll have me), Blue _

 

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Abby asks. She appears out of nowhere, so suddenly that Simon startles hard enough he almost drops his phone. She giggles at him. “Jeez, Si, it’s okay. What, are you hiding a secret boyfriend or something?”

 

Simon can’t even control the blush that spreads across his face. His boyfriend—his super secret email maybe-boyfriend, who plays soccer and gets excellent scores on his tests and has knobbly hands and  _ amazing  _ calves and seriously Simon thinks he’s in love. He might actually die before Monday.

 

“Oh my god,  _ are you hiding a secret boyfriend _ ?” Abby whispers. She grabs his arm. “Simon!”

 

“Shh,” he begs, laughing and blushing. “I don’t know. I—maybe. Soon. I don’t know.”

 

She asks; and it all just kind of comes pouring out of him. He tells her everything, from the first note to the first email to the notes he continued to leave, to figuring out who it was (even though he doesn’t give her the name. He can’t do that to Bram, not without his permission) and to reaching this point,  _ finally _ , where he’s ready to meet face to face.

 

“And seriously, I think I love him. I honestly, completely, totally fell for this guy before I even knew who he was, and now I’m finally going to be able to tell him all of this stuff in person. Hell, Abby, is this even real?”

 

“This is like the cutest love story ever,” she tells him. She’s smiling so wide it must hurt, but Simon’s half sure he’s got an identical look on his face. He’s so damn happy now. It’s hard to believe he spent this entire week trying to figure out if his entire life was going to fall apart. Now, it’s clear that everything is just falling into place. “Please date this cute boy of yours forever and ever, I seriously can’t even. I’m so happy for you, Si.”

 

Simon grins. “I seriously can’t even, either.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Over the weekend, he decides it’s already going to be hell—might as well kill two birds with one stone and come out to his family. They’d found out soon enough anyway, especially if he mysteriously started bringing a secret boyfriend home. And deep down, Simon knows they’re going to take it just fine anyway. So he does it.

 

And it goes fine.

 

In an alternate universe, maybe he wouldn’t get to do it his way. It wouldn’t be on his terms. In another timeline, Martin is crueler, or his friends less understanding of him circumstances, or his Bram more scared of what it means to find out each other’s true identities. But not in this one. In this one, he tells his family he’s gay, and Nora holds his hand and smiles, and his dad cries out of pride for his son and regret for things he’s said in the past which Simon quickly shuts down, and his mom reminds him that above all of his struggles, he deserves everything he’s ever wanted.

 

He thinks back to Blue, and the email where he’d Blue that exact same thing.

 

_ All I want is Blue. Bram Greenfeld. Literary nerd, soccer star, boy of my dreams _ .

 

Simon didn’t expect to get  _ this  _ when he’d first wandered into the library however long ago. When he’d first started writing, when they’d first started emailing. Nothing he could have ever imagined would have prepared him for this moment, for where his life had ended up. He’s kind of grateful, for all of it. Even jackass Martin Addison and his almost ruining it all. Everything’s come full circle.

 

“You deserve everything you want.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

_ Dear Blue, _

 

_ I feel kind of weird writing this email, knowing that tomorrow you’re going to know who I am and everything is going to change. But I’m dying to tell you this. I just hope you get to see it. _

_ I came out! I did it. To my best friends and to my family. And it went… better than I could have ever expected it to. _

_ This week has kind of been a lot for me. I’ll explain more later. There’s so much I want to tell you. But I had to let you know that I wouldn’t have done any of this if it wasn’t for you. If it wasn’t for that note you’d left, if it wasn’t for getting to know you. I’d still be the same lame guy stuck in his own head freaking out over something that I had no reason to be scared for. What I’m trying to say is: you make me brave. And tomorrow, you’re going to be even braver. I know this can’t be easy for you. You’ve been so careful about preserving your identity. But I’m so excited to get to know  _ you _ , and all I can hope is that you feel the same way. _

_ Counting down the hours until tomorrow. _

 

_ Yours bravely, Jacques _

 

 

* * *

 

He’s running late.

 

He’s running late on  _ the most important day ever  _ and it’s kind of Nora’s fault but it’s also mostly his and it’s a lot traffic’s fault and seriously, Simon is half ready to start sprinting to the school if they don’t start moving. Bram is going to think Simon decided not to show up and he  _ seriously  _ can’t have that and he does not want to fuck this up. He’s freaking out.

 

“Dude, calm down,” Nora sighs.

 

Simon grits his teeth.

 

They finally,  _ finally  _ get to the school, and Simon literally doesn’t even wait for Nora to get out of the car before he’s sprinting into the school towards the library. He probably knocks someone over; he doesn’t really care. The only thing he can think is  _ Bram Bram Bram _ .

 

Which is pretty much all he’s been able to think about since he found out who Blue was, and even before he knew all he could think was  _ Blue Blue Blue _ , so he guesses it’s nothing out of the ordinary. Still. It’s going to happen.

 

Except the library is empty.

 

Simon’s heart sinks.

 

He tries to swallow his disappointment; maybe Bram’s stuck in traffic. He doesn’t want to assume the worst. He’s had enough of the worst this week and now it’s time for  _ good _ . So he leans against the shelves and sinks to the floor, and sits, and waits.

 

And waits.

 

It’s getting closer to the bell, but Simon still tells himself not to panic.

 

He’ll keep waiting.

 

But then the warning bell rings, and all of Simon’s hopes kind of disappear.

 

He sighs. Maybe it’s for the best. He can’t fault Bram for not being ready; hell, Simon wasn’t even ready to come out like he did but he didn’t really have a choice at first. It stings knowing that he’s going to have to go back to pretending that he’s not aware of Bram’s every movement, that he’s going to have to act like he still doesn’t know who Blue is.

 

Simon starts to stand up. He’s not going to cry.

 

“Wait—!”

 

His breath catches in his throat.

 

Bram is standing at the end of the aisle, leaning against the shelf, panting. His eyes are wide when he catches sight of Simon.

 

“It’s you,” he breathes.

 

“It’s you,” Simon repeats. He can’t really believe it. Even though he knew— _ Bram _ , standing in front of him, looking like everything Simon has ever wanted. More than he could have ever dreamed. “Did you—did you  _ run _ here?”

 

Bram straightens up. His ears are dark with blush. “I was late,” he says, like it’s simple.

 

“ _ Oh _ .”

 

“I didn’t want you to think I’d stood you up,” Bram says, all in a rush. Simon’s heart twists. “I… Wow. It’s you. Simon Spier.”

 

Simon can’t help but laugh. It probably sounds hysterical. “Yeah. You’re Blue. Bram Greenfeld.”

 

Bram is just kind of. Staring. Simon doesn’t mind.

 

“Sorry,” he says after a beat. “I think I’m in shock. I thought—I wanted it to be you.”

 

Simon blushes. Like, seriously, how is he supposed to  _ not  _ kind of freak out? Bram Greenfeld  _ wanted it to be him _ . Simon is going to kiss his face off, literally nothing can stop him.

 

“I knew it was you,” he blurts out. Then he kind of panics.

 

“What?” Bram asks. He looks shocked.

 

“Shit. I mean, I recognized your handwriting. When Mr. Wise gave me your test by mistake,” Simon continues. “But I knew you didn’t know if you were ready. I didn’t say anything, I thought I was being respectful. Maybe I should have—”

 

“Simon.”

 

Bram’s impossibly close now. Simon gulps, and shuts his mouth.

 

“Thank you,” Bram says. He leans his head down, then adds, “I’d like to kiss you.”

 

Simon closes the distance between them.

 

He doesn’t even care that they’re in a semi public place. He doesn’t even care that it’s awkward at first; when he and Bram finally figure it out, it’s pretty much the best first kiss anyone has ever had. Simon doesn’t even care about the tardy bell ringing, doesn’t care about class, doesn’t care about emails or rehearsal or anything. All he wants to care about, from here until forever, is Bram Greenfeld, kissing Simon like he was born to do it.

 

He pulls away, and rests his forehead against Bram’s. And Bram kisses him again. Feather-soft, and gentle.

 

Ten minutes later, they still haven’t gone to class.

 

“I think this is the first time I’ve actually skipped a class,” Bram muses. He and Simon are sitting side by side on floor of the library, legs pressed together. Simon laughs.

 

“I’m a bad influence on you.”

 

“Nooo,” Bram giggles. “Maybe a little. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 

Simon smiles at the carpet. He’s half convinced this spot in their high school library is the most romantic spot of all time.

 

“I want to hold your hand,” Simon whispers, like it’s a secret.

 

And Bram smiles. “So hold it.”

 

So Simon does.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me [here](https://tonytangredis.tumblr.com/).
> 
> comment, kudos, bookmark below!


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